Desperate Measures (38 page)

“Tea's good.”

The early sunrise crept through the kitchen window. “This tea and toast must be an old wive's tale,” Pete muttered after he ate. “I don't feel one damn bit better.” Suddenly, he noticed Annie's drawn face. “Are you crying?” he asked.

“No, not really. It's sad when someone leaves this earth. I'm sure your uncle had a good life, but it's still sad. We take so much for granted, you, me, all those people out there,” Annie said, pointing to the kitchen window. “We're alive, we're healthy, the world isn't such a bad place. It's whatever we make it. Life is going to go on no matter what. Now, is there anything I can do for you? I still have your power of attorney. I can handle the legal matters. I don't think it's a good idea for you to do that.”

“If you don't mind. You always make such perfect sense, Annie.”

“I accept the compliment. Do you want me to handle the funeral arrangements?”

“No. I have to do that. I'm going to shower and . . . head out to New Jersey. Close Fairy Tales, Annie.”

“Okay. Do you want me to go with you?”

“If ... are you sure you want to? Yeah, yeah, I do need you to come with me. I need that level head of yours.”

An hour later Pete picked up Annie's small bag. “How come you don't use the big bedroom?”

Annie looked away. “I don't know. Too much trouble to move my stuff from the guest room. I'm only here temporarily.”

Later, I have to think about what she just said, Pete thought. It did mean something, he was sure of it.

 

The afternoon of the funeral found Pete in Leo's study. Annie sat behind the desk with Leo's will in front of her. “I'll skip the legalese and get to the heart of things.”

Pete nodded.

“You inherit everything, Pete. Requests to the servants. A large lump sum, a hundred thousand dollars to his secretary, and of course her pension of two thousand a month. She's to retire now to take care of her cats. This house, and everything in it, goes to you. There's a provision here for the perpetual upkeep of your . . . mother's and father's graves. His own too. All stocks, bonds, bank accounts go to you. He's got six trusts here that have to be gone over. His life insurance will pay the estate taxes. His share of the firm, which is half, goes to you too. That's about it. There's a sealed envelope here for you. You might want to read it in private. He took care of everything. I'll file the claims with the insurance companies. I'd say, Pete, you are one hell of a wealthy man. Oh, I forgot, money has been set aside for the upkeep of this estate, and Leo asks that the servants all be kept on until retirement. There's a fund set up for that too.” Annie folded the will, snapped the rubber band around it, and handed it to Pete. “I think I'll go for a walk.”

Outside in the warm September air, Annie reflected that Pete looked so vulnerable, so lost. Instinct warned her not to go back inside. Pete would pull up his socks and get on with his life, and she had to do the same.

Just now, going through Leo's will, handling legal details, made her realize how much she missed the practice of law. Running Maddie Stern's business, enjoyable as it was, simply wasn't for her. The problem was, did she tell Pete now, when he was so whacked out, or did she wait for a more opportune moment? Or she could formalize it and send a letter of intent?

Annie sat down on an iron bench and stared at her surroundings through misty eyes. It was beautiful here. She wondered how many people it took to keep the estate intact. Had Leo Sorenson enjoyed this lovely place, or had he been too busy to smell the proverbial roses? Probably the latter.

She thought about the funeral and the hundreds and hundreds of people who stopped to pay their respects. Flowers, tons of flowers, had arrived and were still arriving as the funeral procession made its way to the cemetery. Large sums of money had been donated in Leo's name to the hospital, to the Heart Fund, to the Cancer Fund, and one incredibly handsome donation in his name had been sent to a children's year-round camp, a camp the donor said Leo endowed many years ago. A camp called the Harry and Jane Sorenson Camp for Handicapped Children. Pete's eyes had rolled back in his head when he heard about that.

Annie swatted at a bluebottle fly bent on attacking her ankle. Would Pete tell her what was in the letter with the gold seal?

If only . . .

 

Pete sipped at the cup of coffee he carried into Leo's study. This was his now. This shiny mahogany desk, this rich leather chair Leo had broken in, all belonged to him. His eyes burned when he stared at the framed picture of his parents that sat on Leo's desk. His desk now. The picture was his too.

He ripped at the envelope in his hand. There were four sheets of paper and a letter on crackly paper. He read the letter first.

The crackly letter dropped to the floor as Pete's hands closed over the arms of the chair he was sitting on. He was having trouble breathing and his mouth felt dry.

It had been a terrible week, as far as Maddie was con
cerned, beginning with the dissatisfying phone call to Pete, and then coming back to this prison and going through the motions of living. She'd also gotten a letter, which arrived after the phone call.

“Aren't you cold?” Janny asked curiously as she snipped at the evergreens on the side of the front porch. She herself was dressed in a heavy jacket and wore gardening gloves with a fleece lining. They probably weren't gardening gloves at all, but workmen's gloves. She'd found them in the barn and confiscated them.

“Do you mean me personally or just my heart? How can you be cold when you're dead? I am, you know, I just don't have enough sense to lie down and get it over with. What
are
you doing?”

“Trimming these bushes. Or are they shrubs? It's something different to do, and I like to keep busy. You should try doing something besides feeling sorry for yourself, Maddie. This isn't going to go away, and we need to make the best of it.”

“Like you do with those ranch hands,” Maddie snapped.

“Yeah,” Janny drawled. “I enjoy playing cards with them and talking. That's all we do, Maddie. I hate being around you because you depress me.” There, she'd said it and it was out in the open.

“Is this where you start to blame me for what happened?”

“No. All I said was you depress me. You never speak to me unless I speak first. You grumble and complain, and I can't stand your constant crying and whining. We have to make the best of this and look forward to the day it all comes to an end.”

“And when, pray tell, do you think that's going to happen?”

“I don't know, Maddie. All I know is it will, and I don't intend to sit here and suck my thumb.”

“That's easy for you to say. When it comes right down to it, what did you give up? A job, that's it. I gave up Pete, the business, my marriage. Everything,” Maddie said bitterly.

“It wasn't just a job. It was my career. I know with a lot of hard work I could have done very well. And, Miss Stern, I had to put my dream of finding my real mother on hold. That counts, Maddie. A lot. It's something I dreamed of doing all my life, and now I can't. Someday, when this is all over, I hope I can find her. I can't let that stop me from living. Life goes on, Maddie. We're alive and well.” She'd gone through this same speech so many times, she was sick of it. Who was this person sitting on the porch shivering in the cold because she didn't have the good sense to put on a jacket?

“So blame me, I can take it,” Maddie said wearily.

“No you can't, that's the problem. You need help, Maddie. I think we should ask the caseworker to get you a shrink to talk to. We could probably both use a little counseling. I'm game if you are. I'll even do the asking. You need help, Maddie, and I'm not saying this to hear my own voice.”

“Do you think I'm crazy?” Maddie shouted.

“No, I don't think you're crazy, but I do think you need to talk to someone before you go over the edge. You need professional help. So do I. I realize it, why can't you?”

“Stuff it, Janny. Do you think every time a guy dumps a girl she should go to a shrink? That's what you're saying. People lose their businesses every day of the year, and do they seek professional help? I doubt it. What makes me different?”

“Our situation. You aren't accepting it.”

“You have?” Maddie said bitterly.

“A lot better than you have. I don't know you anymore, Maddie,” Janny said quietly. “And you know something else, I don't blame Pete one bit for not coming here. You are so selfish, you'd let Fairy Tales go under, you'd make Pete give up his business, just so you can have what you want. Grow up, Maddie, that isn't the way the real world operates. This is going to be over, and I believe Pete when he said he'd wait for you. It's something to look forward to, but you took care of that, didn't you? If he does what you told him to do, it will be your fault. At the risk of repeating myself, grow up, Maddie.”

“I quit,” Maddie said quietly, Pete's letter clutched in her hand. She'd read it five times, knew the words by heart. She could throw it away when she went into the house.

Inside, Maddie flopped down on the sofa.

Olive Parsons. The marshals had screwed up on that too. Six months ago they found their mistake and came to give her another identity, saying that in their haste to try and satisfy her the wrong numbers were put into the computer. It seemed there was a real Olive Parsons, her caseworker had said sheepishly. Janny told her she'd lost it that day, screaming and yelling, her eyes rolling back in her head. There had been a regular parade of people for several days after that, apologizing, trying to explain she needed this new identity and she
must
turn over all the old papers given to her. She'd refused, and that night after Janny was asleep she'd buried everything in the backyard in a five-pound lard can. Someday she was going to fuck them all over the way they fucked her over. God, she was starting to think and talk like a criminal.

In the house she fixed herself a cup of tea and carried it to the living room, where she smoothed out Pete's letter and read it again.

“And I thought lawyers were supposed to be smart,” Maddie muttered. “If you believe for one minute we are going to have a bright, wonderful future, you're crazy. If you loved me, you'd be here right now, telling me these things in person. I might believe you then. Letters don't count. What counts is being here with me. So there, Pete Sorenson. So there.”

“I'm worried about you, Maddie,” Janny said that evening when she'd finished the dishes.

“Well, don't worry about me. By the time this thing gets to court, I'll be declared incompetent and my testimony won't be needed.”

Janny's eyebrows shot upward as her jaw dropped. “Is that what this is all about?”

“They won't need me then. Pete said in his letter that all those criminals, the ones that belong to the crime families, are ... rolling over and making deals. Don't you get it, Janny, this is all for nothing. When it's time to go into court, I won't even be needed. And for that they ruined my life. Yours too, but you refuse to accept it.”

“The way I look at it, Maddie, my life is on hold for a while. Personally speaking, I think you're in a very bad emotional state right now and you aren't thinking clearly. I'm sorry you won't ask for professional help because I think you need it. My suggestion to you right now would be to ask if you can call Pete. It might be nice to wish him a happy Thanksgiving. You know, be grateful for what you have because the alternative isn't something I want to think about.”

“Butt out, Janny,” Maddie said nastily.

Back in the kitchen, Janny pulled at Marshal Parker McNally's arm.

“Parker, I need to talk to you,” she said quietly. “Let's go outside and take a short walk.”

He was okay for a marshal, Janny thought. He missed his family and he hated this particular job. He was tall, broad-shouldered, fit and trim. She pretended not to see the gun stuck in the back of his trousers. Instead she concentrated on his dedication, his homely face and the big ears he said were his personal curse to live with the rest of his life. He was married to the sweetest girl in Texas, he said, and had three of the most beautiful daughters in the whole world. His assignment was six weeks on and three weeks off.

“I hope you aren't going to tell me Unitec nosedived,” McNally grumbled good-naturedly.

“Nothing that interesting. I'm worried about Maddie. She needs help, Parker. You have to call somebody, and you need to do it today. I'm no psychiatrist, but I know Maddie and she's mentally teetering on the edge. Will you call someone?”

“Are you sure, Janice? I talked to her yesterday and she was her usual nasty self. I didn't pick up on any . . . mental problems.”

“You don't know her like I do. Like I
thought
I knew her. If I'm wrong, what harm is done? Some shrink gets to mush through all this snow and eat my cooking. I don't want . . . later to know I missed some signals and Maddie . . . went over the edge.”

“How is it you can handle this and she can't?” McNally asked for the hundredth time.

“I wasn't engaged. I didn't have any wedding plans. I didn't open up a million-dollar business, and . . . and I don't have a fiance, a fiance who doesn't want to join me. That's Maddie's explanation. And I still have the same identity I was given at the get-go. They dicked her around, and you know it. I agree with her, we don't belong in this program. Your people didn't take the time to figure that out, and yeah, I know, things moved quickly and you did the best you could. It wasn't good enough. It still isn't good enough. Promises were made. Promises were broken. It wasn't fair and it still isn't fair. I hate this as much as she does.”

“But you're handling it.”

Janny wiped at the tears in her eyes. “I guess my expectations weren't as grand as Maddie's. I'm a simple person. I'd like to be rich someday, but more than anything, I want to be contented. I want a family because I never had one. To me, that's a very high expectation, but not a monetary one. Maddie equates everything with dollars. Will you call, Parker?”

“Yes. I don't know who I'm going to raise on Thanksgiving eve, though,” McNally said, a frown building between his brows.

“Maybe you need to get tough. I happen to think this is crucial. If anything happens to Maddie, I swear to God I will personally walk all the way to Cheyenne and spill my guts to the first reporter who will listen. And all those ranch hands in there, they'll help me. You know that, don't you?”

“Yes, I do know that.”

“So . . . tell them to get the shrink here by tomorrow. They can fly in by helicopter and land in the field.”

McNally felt out of his depth. He believed everything Janice was telling him, but he knew there were going to be hundreds of questions, and he didn't know if he could answer them. “Does that mean I should ask them to send a woman or a man?”

“I don't think a woman would be good, Parker. Maddie will see that she's dressed well, free to work at her profession, free to come and go as she pleases. That will work on her mind. At least I think it will. I think a man will be better. Yes, I think it should be a man. Do you have any opinions?” she asked.

“No I don't. I'll tell them what you said, what you suggested.”

“Maybe it should be a fatherly figure, you know, an older man.”

“That sounds good,” McNally said, relieved that he now had something to say that made some kind of weird sense, even to him.